


Muzzled Marksman

by Louse



Category: Creepypasta - Fandom, Proxy - Fandom, Slender Man - Fandom, slenderman - Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:12:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2296175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louse/pseuds/Louse





	Muzzled Marksman

There was never anything overly extraordinary about his life, or the people around him. Bec had never much cared for the world around him, nor the people he dealt with on a daily basis. He was indifferent to most things, though he was content - he was succeeding in college, happily working as a freelance artist, he wasn’t entirely sure if anything could have improved his life, he may not be filled to the brim with joy every moment of his waking life, but he had achieved something many people could not - the constant feeling of being content. 

As content as he was, though, he knew that his life of indifference, ignorance and his all around disinterest in anything except his work and his art would eventually run him into the ground. That, and the fact that no matter how loud he had his music blaring through his headphones, he could always hear the mocking cries. “Tranny!” “Shemale!” “Stop being stupid, you’re a girl!”. It all upset him, it was agony hearing those words, but his music helped him focus, and for a short while, he could forget.

Each morning, he would pick up his binder and fasten it around his chest, frowning and adjusting it when it didn’t flatten his breasts as much as he would have liked, only stopping when he was happy with it. He’d pull on a shirt and a thick hoody regardless of the weather, fearful that the binder wasn’t working as well as he had thought.

Once work, art and college were over, Bec would sit and read - anything he could get his hands on that included nothing of the romance crap he despised. Books, leaflets, magazines, videogame booklets - whatever he could find, he took it. He had gained quite a taste for the horror genre, though, he was tired of the cliche shit that a lot of things he read had to offer - mirrors? How dull. Dolls? He had seen that at least a hundred times before.

Eventually, he turned to the internet in desperation of new things to read - he had exhausted both local libraries of their decent books, the newspapers were printing the same old shit that was overdone, and magazines had nothing new to offer, either. It took a lot of digging around, filtering through badly written story after badly written story, cliche after cliche. before he came across a forum. 

The forum’s URL was just a string of numbers, so he saved the link in his favourites, due to the fact he suffered dyscalculia, in other words, he had difficulty reading and understanding numbers. A few hours were spent on the forum, finding titles that sounded interesting, pulling them up on his screen three at a time, the browser tabs nestled alongside each other so he could read one and then the next while the other loaded. Freelance art wasn’t the most stable income, so his internet was pretty slow, though that didn’t stop him from reading until he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.

The next morning, a Friday, Bec woke, stretching out. He only had a half day at college, and while he would have normally gone to class and worked until the tutor and other students arrived, he opened his laptop, and found the forum in his favourites.

After opening it up, he scrolled through the threads and stories posted, even rereading some of his favourites from the night before. The forum was everything he had needed and more, he even went so far as to type the url into his smartphone so he could access it on the bus he took to get to college (despite the fact reading on the bus made him feel sick).

A thread caught his eye just as he was about to shut down. Buses were always late anyway, right? He could afford a few minutes to read another one, surely. He clicked the link, the content seemed to be a ritual of some sort. Go to the forest at midnight, take a flashlight, no cameras, no phones if you plan to record, though a torchlight app is fine. Keep your eyes on the ground, don’t look up, and don’t panic if you feel dizzy, hear ringing in your ears, or the flashlight flickers.

He kept reading, and as god awful as the content was, he hadn’t read any other ritual stories that interested him - he didn’t live too far from the woods, either - a ten minute walk and he was there. It was a Friday, there was no college on Saturday’s, so why not prove the thread was as shit as it’s author’s English skills?

College flew by as usual, the bus taking Bec back to his hometown. He read more threads and stories, waiting for midnight to come. Once 11:40 came around, he stood, shut down his laptop and prepared. He pulled on his favourite dark hoody, stuffed a flashlight into his pocket, and grabbed a bottle of water after pulling on a pair of black gloves.   
His mother would be asleep by then, so he didn’t have to worry - besides, he was 18 now, if he wanted to go walking at midnight, he had the right to do so. She always told him how ‘he was an adult now’, she’d be a hypocrite to tell him what to do. That was his logic, anyway.

He left his house, locking the door behind him.. No point leaving it open, he wouldn’t need to run back regardless of whether the ‘ritual’ was real or not.   
Bec half regretted not bringing his scarf, debating going back for it, but decided against it, setting out towards the woods, following a familiar trail as the ritual had instructed. His heart hammered in his chest, an excitement he hadn’t felt in a long time - despite the fact he was still convinced the entire ritual was bullshit, he was still scared that it could work. Scared - truly afraid - something he hadn’t experienced in such a long time. It felt amazing.

The feeling did die down, however, when midnight struck, and nothing happened. A heavy sigh left him, as he turned around to head home, no doubt to be shouted at when he returned. Oh how he hated it when his mother shouted at him, she wasn’t a cruel parent, just too worried, convinced Bec was an idiot and couldn’t look after himself - telling him he hadn’t moved out because he knew he wouldn’t last. The only reason he hadn’t moved out what because he couldn’t afford it - he and his mother could barely afford the internet with their wages put together, how could he live on his own? He couldn’t.

He near stopped dead when the flashlight started to flicker, though. Fuck, he wasn’t sure if it was the batteries, or if he was actually being approached. However, the guide had specifically said to keep walking until he felt sick, and so that’s what he did, taking shaky step after shaky step deeper into the woods, swearing the trees and brush were getting thicker with each step he took, his surrounding closing in around him. It was enough to near drive him mad, until he felt a wave of nausea wash over him, causing him to stop walking to take a few deep breaths. He closed his eyes tight, knowing that if he fucked up, he’d be killed. No, this wasn’t a coincidence, the ringing in his ears, the static sound that was getting louder, there was no way this was fake - maybe he could beg for it to be a dream, but then he wouldn’t be fit or worth it, would he? He couldn’t turn back now, he had to go through with it. He knew these woods anyway - he’d been there with the cadets when they’d gone to boot camp, once it was over, if he didn’t end up back in his room, he could find his way home.

His shoulders tensed as he felt hands press against them, cold and…slender. His heart was racing, he could feel it pounding against his ribcage, his attempts to steady his breathing were failing, as he felt the black tendrils of the creature snake around his legs and his wrists, keeping him still, not allowing him to flee. If he failed now, he was screwed.

Bec wanted to open his eyes and look up at the creature which held him now, but that would mean certain death, so his eyes remained shut, even when the questions slithered into his mind from the thing that held him. “What is your name?” “Why did you come here?” “Tell me why you wish to be a proxy.” Bec didn’t even know how he had answered the last two, but apparently, he had answered them correctly, feeling his wrist being lifted up towards the creature slightly, one hand leaving his shoulder, the other hand gripping onto him tighter.

Grimacing as he felt a symbol being carved into his wrist, Bec kept silent, preparing himself for passing out, for running away…he had to leave his home. His mother, his sister - he’d have to leave the life he had known his whole life. The creature mustn’t have known or sensed these thoughts, as it just kept going, kept carving. The pain stopped suddenly as Bec blacked out, the nausea being too much to stay conscious as he lay on the forest floor, face down,the tendrils once again wrapping around unconscious form.  
There was hope that it was all just a dream when he woke up in his bed. He knew there was one way to know for sure, though, and he was reluctant to see. He lifted his hand, tugging down the sleeve of his hoody, his stomach dropping. There it was - the circle with the scratchy cross laid over it. He gulped, wetting his strangely dry mouth, before dragging himself out of bed. He grabbed a notepad and pen, writing a note to his other and leaving it on his pillow, telling her he loved her and that he was sorry, and that under no circumstances should she approach him if she ever saw him again. The note hurt to write, but it had to be done. He gathered up spare clothes, some money, a key in case he decided to return for whatever reason, food, water and a flashlight with a pack of batteries. He headed for the door, before stopping, pulling open his knick knack draw, taking out the gas mask he owned - it only covered the lower half of his face, two filters either side of the almost triangular structure, the front decorated with what looked like large, beast like teeth.

For his own good, he’d be better off hiding as much of his face as he could. He put the gas mask on, before fleeing the house, grabbing a metal pole from the garage. Slender Man, the creature that had marked him, would no doubt want him to slather his hands in blood soon enough, he’d need a better weapon eventually, which is why he headed straight towards the Cadet building, smashing open the window with a few good, hard swings, he had to pick out a few pieces of glass from his hair, pulling out a few of the dark brown strands as he did, but that didn’t matter - he’d yank it all out in frustration later on no doubt. He cleared the frame of glass, before climbing in through the window, breaking into the ‘secure’ room which contained the guns. There was virtually no security, the sergeants just hoped the fact the town was small was security enough.

He sorted through the older guns, before grabbing the sniper rifle - it was still a pretty old gun, but it wasn’t ancient at least. He filled his bag and pockets with ammunition, before jumping through the window again, fleeing back into the woods that his fate had been sealed in - back towards Slender Man, the creature that now owned him, and as he entered the woods, he heard a soft voice whisper to him.

"Welcome home, proxy."


End file.
